Burning Truth
by soulandstardust
Summary: How Sméagol & Déagol came to confess/discover their feelings for one another


_'Well, I think she fancies you, whatever you may say. I've seen the way she looks at you.'_

Seated at the table with his family and best friend (who often came home to share supper with him after a long day of fishing), he rolled his eyes at his sister, shaking his head.

_'You'll see I'm right, __Sméagol__, you mark my words.' _She said, waving her ladle for emphasis.

_'And is there not more to it,' _Sméagol pressed, _'you being her friend, she may have confided in you.'_

With an indignant huff his sister snatched up the soup pot, slipping away from the table - and from any more shrewd guesses.

At such an obvious sign of the meal ending, his family soon got up to take their leave, giving short parting nods to the two friends left sitting at the table.

The room now emptied, Sméagol glanced up to see his friend pushing the potatoes left from his stew idly around his plate with his spoon.

_'__Déagol__? What do you think, does she fancy me?'_

Déagol stabbed a bit of potato in half, his spoon roughly hitting the plate beneath.

_'__Déagol__?_ _You've been so quiet this evening,'_ Sméagol could always tell when something was wrong with his friend, mostly whenever he wasn't laughing, for they never failed to make each other laugh. '_Has something stolen your tongue?'_

Déagol looked up, casting a sharp look at him and holding his gaze for a long moment, seeming almost hurt. But before Sméagol could ask anything further, Déagol pushed away from the table, quickly & silently making his way to the door and outside.

Sméagol remained sitting at the table, trying to figure if he had somehow done something wrong to upset Déagol, though nothing came to his mind that could explain his behavior and it wasn't long before a very confused (and concerned) Sméagol found himself outside looking for him. He didn't have to search very far - just under a nearby tree stood Déagol, leaning against it as if for support.

_'__Déagol__?_' As he neared his friend, he could see even by moonlight alone that he appeared to have been crying, his eyes still holding a glimmer threatening to spill over.

_'I'm okay, __Sméagol__,'_ Déagol's tone was firm, almost as if with annoyance, but Sméagol felt sure he heard a catch in his throat when he first went to speak. '_I burnt my mouth is all,' H_e seemed to falter for a moment- _'on..on a tater_.' He gave a small shrug, nudging at the tree roots with his foot.

_'Oh,'_ Sméagol paused in thought. _'But they were nearly cold to begin with!'_ he suddenly exclaimed. _'My sister may think she is the finest cook this side of the river..'_ he trailed off, and then speaking softly he added _'You never eat the potatoes anyway, _Déagol_, you always leave them behind. I know that much about you by now, you know'._

_'Do you?' _Déagol looked up, catching Sméagol's large blue-green eyes with his own dark set, and it seemed to Sméagol that they flashed bright lights like captured stars into the darkness, staring through him yet he was unable to look away.

_'You know everything about everyone, __Sméagol__, even if it's kept hidden. You always figure out the truth of matters well before they realize you suspect.'_

He continued to search Sméagol's eyes, dropping his voice to a whisper that came broken and halting. _'Why then can you not see what is so heavy on my heart?'_

Sméagol wished he could understand, and tried recalling everything that had happened that day in an effort to remember what it could be, but it had been a good day by all accounts, with much teasing and laughter. The only thing he had noticed was Déagol's quietness, which had started sometime during supper, about the time his sister has started nagging him about..

His thought reeling, he could feel a hope he had long tried to keep damped down now rekindle within him, and he scarcely dared to breath or to put it into words.

When he did venture to talk, his words seemed to come from somewhere besides himself. _'I might..I might know, actually.' _he said, now finding Déagol's eyes very difficult indeed to be so lost in.

Déagol for a moment bore a look of surprise, which was quickly followed by him breaking the gaze between them as a deep flush spread across his face, instead focusing once again on kicking at the tree's roots.

_'I'm not in for tricks or riddles right now, __Sméagol__,'_

Sméagol could see his friend was shaking slightly, whether from the cool night air or from something more he could not quite tell.  
_  
'Just leave me for now, __Sméagol__. Leave me alone.'_

At this the floodgates that had long Sméagol's emotions back were opened wide, and he stepped forward, grabbing Nahald's hand, grasping it tightly within his own against his chest.

Déagol's unspoken questions hung plainly written in the air between them, and the only answer Sméagol could manage in return was a quiet, but sincere promise. _'Never, __Déagol__..I will never, never leave you alone.."taters" indeed'_.


End file.
